


Hungover

by blckpnk



Category: House of Cards (US TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 21:02:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9257108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blckpnk/pseuds/blckpnk
Summary: drabble i wrote in like 20minsbc the power went out and i remembered a  prompt i saw on twitter.





	

**Author's Note:**

> totally unedited.   
> wrote this in 20 mins bc i was bored af while the power was out.   
> enjoy.

“Meechum-“ Frank says, voice soft, slow. Like he was talking to a child.

Edward spins around, wobbling a bit on his feet. The room’s spinning underneath him, but that’s all right, it’s more fun that way.

“Yessssir!” He slurs, hands grasping onto the marble countertop to steady himself from the earthquake happening. He wonders why they aren’t taking cover.

“How drunk are you right now?” Frank places a gentle hand on the agents shoulder, half scared he was going to wobble over and face plant in the middle of his kitchen. 

“s’im not drunk- you you’re just… blurry.” 

Frank cracks a smirk, the man in front of him takes a unsteady step forward and falls into his chest. Edward tries to scramble back up, but the just keeps loosing his footing. 

“Hey- I got you- I got you.” Frank coo’s steadying the man. He steps beside him and slips a hand over his shoulder guiding him to the guest bedroom downstairs. 

“S’already taking me to bed? at leasssst buy me dinner first.” Edward whines, and when Frank gently nudges him onto the bed, Edward wont let go of his suit, fists grabbing the fabric. 

“Come on, sleep it off. Goodness, what did Claire give you?” He says more to himself then the drunken man still grabbing ahold of him. 

“Stayyyy with meee sirrrrr-“ Edward coos, tugging Francis forward. 

“No- Meechum your going to have a hell of a hangover in the morning- go to sleep.” He tries to pry the man from him, but Edward just uses it as leverage to get him pulled down onto the sheets. 

“s’there we go-“ Edward breathes, while Frank tries to get up, but Meechum takes a firm grasp on his wrist and turns so his back is facing the Vice-President, and makes Frank’s arm drape over his waist. 

“Meechum-“ Frank sighs, trying, and failing to take his wrist back. He was forced to turn onto his side because of the awkward twist of his shoulder, and so now he was involuntarily spooning the younger man. 

 

But the grip on his wrist doesn’t loosen, even when soft snores are coming out of the agent. So Frank gives up on trying to get up, and succumbs to the tired drooping of his eyelids.   
.  
.  
.

The first thing Edward realizes when he wakes up is the pounding in his head. Then he also realizes that there is an arm around his waist, and a body pressed flush against his back. 

When he pops his eyes open, he realizes he does not know where he is, or how he got here. 

But when he turns around, and comes face to face with Frank Underwood. He remembers. 

He’s sure that this is the reddest he’s blushed in his life. 

The first thing he thinks he should do is get up. But when he tries to sit up, his head pounds so ferociously that he has to lay back down with a groan.

“I knew you’d have a hell of a hangover.” Frank says with amused grogginess. 

Edward attempts to sit up again, and makes it half way. 

“Sir- I’m sorry! I have to go-“ 

Frank chuckles. 

“Nonsense, you can’t sit up- let alone drive. You’re staying here, and I’m getting you an advil.” 

Meechum squeezes his eyes shut, and feels the weight of Francis leave he bed. He doesn’t meet his eyes when he comes back in, with Advil, water, and a Banana.

“The best hangover cure is advil and banana’s.” Frank says, placing all three on the bedside table. 

He could see Edward’s embarrassment, so he decided to leave him alone until he was feeling a little less like a dead body. 

“Come on out when you can walk, ill fix you up a proper hangover breakfast.” Frank says while exiting the room. 

It takes a few minutes, and a lot of courage, for Edward to hobble out of the spare bedroom, but he does, with an empty glass in one hand and a banana peel in the other. 

Frank’s sitting at the breakfast bar eating eggs and bacon, when he spots the embarrassed agent out of the corner of his eye. 

“I fixed you a plate, s’over there.” He gestures to the countertop with his fork, and Edward slowly but surely makes his way over, dropping the banana peel in the compost along the way. 

“Thank you, sir.” 

He takes a seat on the other end of the breakfast bar, and he can feel the tips of his ears turning red. 

They eat in silence for a while, until Francis comes out with, 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t buy you dinner before I took you to bed, but at least I can cook breakfast for you afterward.” 

Edward lets out a laugh, blush covering his cheeks, and Frank slides his plate from him and put’s it in the sink. 

Edward swears he will never drink again.


End file.
